The Tenants
by NonaRose
Summary: A multi-chapter fic written for SpookyOQ. Modern AU. The Locksley's move into their dream home after spending years building it from the ground. Only, they're not alone.
1. Mask

**Chapter One**

 **Prompt One** **— Mask**

* * *

 **A/N: Most things will be based off true events. In the start of every chapter, I'll state it. In the end of it, I'll explain what the events were and what happened, if anyone's interested. I might add a folktale or two, stories we heard growing up.**

 **A/N2: Some of the events are taken from true experience(s) in this chapter. Just a brief idea. Oh! And mistakes are mine**

* * *

"I can't believe this took seven years," Regina said, a beam spread widely across her face as she admired the two-story, Mediterranean-style villa.

They built it. From a figment of their imagination on a blueprint to an actual home standing right in front of them. It took years of planning and putting together. Years of setting up garage sales and working the extra shifts to scrape up every possible penny. Their eldest, Henry, was only one when the place was nothing but an empty land passed down to her husband, Robin, after his grandfather's death, and now he was a bright eight-year-old holding his younger brother's hand as they examined every nook and cranny of the place like the little explorers that they've always been.

Each of Abbott Locksley's grandchildren inherited something off him after his passing. An old car, a broken watch, a decent amount of cash. But none of them were given something as massive as a land. It started arguments that led to fights between cousins that were once close, and they've never seen them again since.

"Worth every second of it," Robin replied, his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her closer, and his lips pressing against her temple.

Was it, though?

Was keeping the land and building their home over it worth losing their family?

"We could've moved earlier if they connected the bloody water and electricity in time," Robin grumbled, making her chuckle.

Everything was ready aside from that. The rooms were painted and all the furnitures were in place, and he even planted a few rose bushes in the garden, and just as he promised her he would, that beautiful apple tree she'd fallen in love with.

Regina leaned in, supporting a sly smile on her lips, and whispered, "It's all about timing."

That made him laugh out loud, then playfully bump his shoulder into hers. "Stop reminding me of the embarrassing things I'd much rather forget."

"That was one of the cutest pick-up lines anyone's ever used on me," she argued. And really, as cheesy as it was, she'd take that over the old 'did you fall from heaven?' one any day.

"If milady says so," he gave in. Ten years on and that nickname still made her smile. Milady. So unusual nowadays, but she loved it. "Now, shall we check on the boys before the destroy this house, too?"

"We shall, milord."

* * *

"Mommy, look!" Roland exclaimed, waving something as he stumbled toward her and Robin in a hurry. "Look what Henry found in his room!"

"It's your bedroom, too, buddy," Robin corrected, scooping him up in his arms. "You're sharing, remember?"

"But, Dad!" Henry whined from a distance, approaching them with his shoulders sagged in disappointment.

"We talked about this before, Henry," Regina chided. "You're sharing until you're old enough to have your own bedroom."

"But I _am_ old enough," Henry insisted.

Regina glanced over at Roland, who was engrossed in whatever Robin was telling him, then crouched down to Henry's level, uttering loud enough just for him to hear, "But Roland isn't. I know he says otherwise but you and I know better. He's afraid of being on his own, he needs his big brother with him. To protect him, just like you said you would when you held him in the hospital for the first time, remember?"

"You heard that?" Henry gaped. "But I—"

"Whispered?" Regina continued, chuckling when he nodded rapidly. Of course she did and it was the sweetest thing she'd seen. Big brother making a promise to his baby brother. To never leave his side. Never let anyone hurt him and always protect him. "You were terrible at whispering four years ago."

Henry sighed, a little too dramatically, and shrugged. "Fine then, I guess we'll share a room."

Not that it was an option, but he agreed, what more could she ask for from someone so stubborn?

"Thank you." She grinned, pressing a kiss to his forehead before standing upright again. "Now, what was this thing you two found?"

"A mask!" Roland twisted in his father's arms to face her and excitedly shoved the item in her direction.

She took it, closely examining the foreign object. It was an eerie one. Cracked. Featureless. Something didn't feel right about it.

"It's cool, isn't it, Mom?" Henry beamed, hazel eyes shifting between her and the mask she held.

What was so cool about it? A mask that looked as if someone had skinned an old, porcelain doll. It was something straight out of a nightmare.

Regina shook her head, handing it over to her husband. "Get rid of it."

"But, Mom!" The boys yelled in unison.

"It's not ours," she explained, "we don't keep things that don't belong to us." But who else could've it belonged to? The house was recently built. _They_ built it. No one lived in it before them. "Throw it away, please."

* * *

"Why did Mom have to do that?" Henry huffed. "It was a cool mask. I liked it."

"Yeah," Roland argued on the bed beside his brother's, looking even smaller than he was huddled up under his heavy _Curious George_ blanket. "It was so cool," he parroted, "I liked it, too."

"Cool?" Robin chuckled, his hand seeking both boys for a quick tickle that drew a giggle out of them. "The mask was terrifying."

"No it wasn't," Roland argued, flashing him a dimpled grin, so identical to his own.

He looked so much like Regina, one would say she gave birth to herself. The resemblance was uncanny. He had her brown eyes and her messy, dark curls, only inheriting from Robin his personality and dimples. Henry, on the other hand, favored his side of the family with his bright, hazel eyes and straight, light brown hair, but inherited his mother's personality.

Roland was an easygoing child, anything would make him happy. It didn't matter to him if his grilled cheese was a little burnt or his crayon box was missing a few colors. Can't find the yellow? No problem, he'd color the sun orange. Green isn't there? He'd turn the grass into ocean. But not Henry. Just like Regina, every little thing irritated him. His grilled cheese had to be prepared just right, not soft but not too toasted, definitely not burnt, and if it was, he'd make Robin do it all over again. He'd throw a tantrum and force them to buy another box of crayons if only one color was missing. At least these behaviors subsided as he grew older

"But it wasn't ours," Robin reminded. "And Mommy's right, we can't keep something that doesn't belong to us. We can't play with it because we might break it. Would you like it if you forgot George somewhere and someone took it, played with it and ruined it?"

Roland hugged his stuffed monkey tighter to his chest and shook his head, lower lip sticking out in a small pout. "No."

"That's why Mommy said we should get rid of it, or at least keep it away until the owner comes looking for it," Robin explained. When both boys nodded, he kissed their foreheads, made sure they were well tucked in, wished them goodnight, then left the room with the nightlight on and the door ajar.

* * *

It was always the same during that time of the month. The pounding headaches would start, her breasts would ache, her temper would flare, and the cravings would hit right after midnight.

That was the reason Regina was in the kitchen at half-past-midnight, rummaging through the cupboards and refrigerators for something to satisfy her sweet tooth.

Lucky Charms sounded heavenly right then and there, but then, so did a spoonful of Nutella straight out of the jar. Better yet, smeared on toast with some bananas. But, buttering a couple slices of bread, toasting them and cutting up a banana, too, and then rinsing and cleaning all the mess in the kitchen before heading back up was too much effort for what was meant to be a quick and easy midnight snack. So, Nutella drizzled over a banana would have to do.

Regina grabbed a ripe banana out of the basket, chopped both ends, peeled it off and sliced it in half, and just as her hand reached for the spoon beside her, the hairs on her arms stood and a shiver ran down her spine. A sudden sense of heaviness enveloped her, as if she was being watched. Something caught her attention out of the corner of her eyes and curiosity got the best of her, forcing her to look.

And there it was. Out of the window, far behind all the trees her husband planted, and above the wall surrounding their property, was a face right by one of the lamps. Not a figure. There wasn't a body connected to it. Just a staked, featureless head. White as snow with holes where the eyes were meant to be. Bloody. It looked so much like the—

"Regina?"

She jumped with a gasp and turned around at her husband's voice, a hand resting above her racing heart. "Don't do that!"

Robin chuckled, murmuring a sincere apology as he approached her and wrapped his arms around her. "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," he teased, his lips pressing against her temple.

Not a ghost, no. But something that felt just as sinister. Or maybe just her brain playing tricks on her. After all, she'd gotten little to no sleep at all between moving into their new home and helping the boys adjust.

Regina shook her head. "Did you get rid of that mask like I told you to?"

"Tossed it away when I threw the trash out earlier."

"Okay."

Maybe it was just her imagination then. She always had a wild one growing up.

* * *

 _Legend has it, if the house is fully furnished and no one moves in right after, others might just reside in it instead._

Due to lack of running water and electricity, we didn't move into our house for a little while. Aside from that issue, though, it was ready. The furnitures were in place, some clothes were already in the closets, the bedsheets were on all beds, and such. And unfortunately for me, my bedroom was too gloomy. For whatever reason, my mother thought dark purple wallpapers and black furnitures was a great idea. It wasn't. It was the only place everyone entered and left with an unsettling feeling in the pit of their stomach, like someone was watching them. If only it ended with it just being that.

As for the face outside of the window, it wasn't a mask, but it happened. Probably in ninth grade when one of my friends claimed she'd seen a girl crying at the gym's bathroom. Now, that place itself was terrifying and stories we heard about it didn't make things any better. According to her, and it might seem unbelievable, which I completely agree to now that I'm older and recalling the moment, and reading it as I write it down, but the girl had dark hair and wore white, and that wasn't our school uniform's color. Not a big deal, there were many girls that often didn't wear them for multiple reasons. Being the nice friend she'd been to all of us over the years, she asked her if she was alright, and the girl turned to her with blood trickling down her cheeks. She bolted out of the gym and back into the school (they're two different buildings within the same property) and told us all about it in class. Because three of my other friends heard eerie sounds coming from the gym and felt as if they were being watched prior to that, and others from other classes backing them up and claiming the same, we believed it.

Not long after that, a week or less, I saw a head staked right above a wall lamp outside the laundry room's window. A girl with black hair and traces of blood down her cheeks, just as my friend described the girl to be, with one eye missing. It could've been anything, though. Just my mind making things up that didn't exist out of a story I heard not long before it, because I blinked and it was gone. I didn't care so much for that story, not when worse things have happened, but that was one of the very first things I've experienced in our new home.


	2. Bang!

**Chapter Two**

 **Prompt Four — _Bang!_**

* * *

 **A/N:** Most chapters will be based off true events. In the start of every chapter, I'll state it. In the end of it, I'll explain what the events were and what happened, if anyone's interested. I might add a folktale or two, stories we heard growing up.

 **A/N2:** _Some_ of the events are taken from true experience(s) in this chapter. Just briefly.

* * *

The house was a castle in the eyes of little Roland. It was huge! So much bigger than the two-bedroom one they lived in prior to it. There were so many places to hide in during every game of hide and seek with Henry, and places to explore—new places he'd never stepped a foot into before, a wonderful change from the small backyard in the old house, where noting interesting ever happened.

But it was also scary.

"Mommy," Roland whined, clutching tightly onto his duvet when she got up to leave after reading him and Henry a bedtime story and kissing them goodnight. "There's something in the closet," he swore, "I'm not lying!"

It was the truth, but no one seemed to believe him. Not her, not Dad, and not even Henry.

"There's nothing there," she soothed as she lowered herself back onto the edge of his bed, her gentle hand brushing his wild, curly hair back and out of his face, tucking a couple strands behind his ear. But he knew what he heard, he was sure of it. It wasn't just his imagination. "Will it make you feel better if I check it again, though?" He bobbed his head, and she got up with a chuckle, doing just that.

She opened the doors to his and Henry's joint closet, and Roland gasped, cowering away from it, as if something would jump out. But nothing did. Nothing was there when his mother shuffled around the hanging clothes to show him the empty spaces between and behind them.

"See, nothing's there," she repeated, and despite himself, he nodded.

After all, she was his mother, she wouldn't lie to him about it.

"Goodnight, my princes."

"Mommy—"

"I know, I know. I'll keep the little light on and the door open."

He smiled when she understood, then turned onto his side and closed his eyes after she blew him a kiss and left.

Even if there was a monster in the closet, he had Henry with him. Mommy always said, as long as they had each other, they'll be okay.

And he tried holding onto that belief, that nothing bad would ever happen as long as Henry was around—but the light tapping started again, coming from within the closet, right as the clock struck twelve, waking him up with a start.

 _Tap…tap…tap_

Then it grew into loud, rhythmical knocks that lasted no longer than five minutes, but those brief minutes were enough to leave him paralyzed with fear, frozen in his place with his arms tight around his knees.

Usually, that would be the end of the nightmare. No more tapping sounds, no more knocking, nothing again for the remainder of the night. But a thunderous bang shook the closet and frightened him, and before he could wrap his head around what was happening, the thumping intensified, powerful and more frequent.

"Mommy!"

* * *

It took Roland an entire hour to drift off again, and only after he was reassured that he could sleep between them for the night. It was a habit Regina tried not to encourage, but when her children woke up crying from a terrible nightmare, she didn't have it in her to turn them away. She wasn't very strong when it came to that.

"Is he asleep?" Robin asked as he entered their bedroom again, leaving the door ajar behind him, and Regina nodded, her gaze falling to the four-year-old curled against her chest at his question. "I talked to Henry."

"And?"

"He denied hearing anything. No banging at all, and if it was as loud as Roland claimed it was, you'd think it would've woke him up, too."

That's what she thought. The boys shared a bedroom, their beds just a couple feet apart. If Roland heard something that left him rattled, surely Henry would've, too.

"Maybe it's just another nightmare," she dismissed, pressing her lips to the top of Roland's head when his small arms tightened around her.

"Maybe." The bed dipped when Robin climbed onto it and laid behind her, wrapping his arms securely around the two of them. "He never had nightmares before, though, did he?"

She shook her head. "Not like this."

"It could be him just adjusting to the new house," Robin suggested.

It would make sense. Change was never easy, especially for a little boy to go through it. Maybe that was what stirred up all these constant nightmares.

"I guess," Regina sighed, and a slight smile pulled at her lips at the feeling of the kiss Robin pressed to the back of her head. "Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, love."

* * *

The traumatic experience Roland went through the night before was completely forgotten the next morning. He woke up bright and happy, and full of giggles when Robin grabbed him for one of his infamous tickle attacks, a _punishment_ for waking them up to early.

He never mentioned anything. Nothing about tapping and knocking, or the loud banging he claimed shook the closet. As if none of that ever happened—and maybe so.

Maybe it was, just as they suspected, another nightmare. Still something they had to look into, though. His sudden screams and cries in the middle of the night broke her heart, and it would make sleeping a challenge for him and Henry, especially on school nights.

With the boys busying themselves somewhere in the house and her husband tending to his garden outside, Regina decided on a bath. She promised Robin she'd wait for him, so they could use their indoor hot tub together for the first time, but he was taking his sweet time watering the plants, and the tub was just too tempting to pass on. They wouldn't have the chance to soak in and relax with the boys around. Knowing them and their curious nature, they'd never let them enjoy it. They'd wanna join—have been wanting to since the day the tub was purchased.

She shed off her clothes as the hot tub was filling, then dipped a hand in to test the water, adjusting it a few times until the temperature was just right before climbing in.

All the stress about the boys' new school year and the worries about whether or not she'd gotten everything ready for them, and the tension from looking after them while running on a couple of hours of sleep every night for the past week, if not more, was gone.

Robin did a marvelous job the day he convinced her that they should get a tub alongside the shower. Promising her they'd have just as much fun in it as they would elsewhere.

 _Tap…tap…tap_

Regina's brows creased and she glanced back in the direction of the door, watching and waiting for the sound again. If it was either of the boys, they'd knock again, they always did. If not, she was just too comfortable and started hearing things that weren't there.

It was the latter, it seemed. Hearing all about the knocking Roland was talking about was starting to get to her.

But as she closed her eyes and let herself go again, it returned.

"Roland?" she called out, carefully pulling herself out of the hot tub. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around herself, quietly padding toward the door. If it was one of the boys, she didn't want to alarm him. She wanted to catch him in the act. With a broad smile stretched across her face, she swiftly unlocked the door and opened it. "Are you playing a prank on me, little monkey…" The rest of the question died at the sight of nobody being around, not even the sound of footsteps of two, mischievous boys running away.

A shiver ran down her spine and she frowned, then turned on her heels and returned into the bathroom, completely unaware of the red line forming down her arm.

* * *

 **A/N:**

Growing up, we were taught about something called a _Qareen_ which means a constant companion. It's a spiritual double of a human. There are many stories to them, different people say different things, but we were told it was something born with us, something that tends to be obsessed with us. Something always there at your lowest, as if it feeds off your darkest moments, your misery.

The weaker your faith is in God, the closer it gets to you. That's how it went anyways.

It's said that if you keep staring at yourself in the mirror after midnight, you'd see it. Your face would be something you wouldn't recognize. I've had it happen to me once and I've known a friend who'd gone through the same thing, too.

Throughout the years, I've been scratched multiple times. Of course, it could be anything, it could even be me accidentally doing it to myself. It happens. But those scratches last longer, they're redder. I've even scratched myself to compare and there was a difference. The ones I inflicted lasted for seconds, sometimes a minute but not more than that. The ones already there, well, they tend to linger. The latest was the number 8 on my inner thigh. I saw it form, out of the blue, and it stayed there for an entire hour before disappearing. It was so sudden. And because I'm not the most religious person alive, my family suspects that it could be none other than, you guessed it, the constant, spiritual companion.


End file.
